She has never taken a silver spoon to the contents of her head,
or buried her body in a lover's empty bed.
She is not the old jacket hanging on the back of the chair-
but the inhabitant, a throne's rightful heir.
I imagine a life where there are no ghosts in the mirror;
when friends talk about their fathers, there's no bile in her throat-
the thought of spilling the contents of her stomach is an unfunny joke.
She doesn't change into her clothes as if a gun ha
d been pulled,
or dream of Icarus’ voice, “Jump” he goads
She looks both ways before crossing the road.
Her fingers don't pry at a laceration's half-hearted mend
or dig into her womb when the wind howls for her end.
Substances don’t brush away her thoughts,
Or birth them again.
This stranger version of me-
probably so easy to understand-
not a martyr in the least.
However,
I imagine without these callous grooves in my flesh;
I couldn't figure out how to fill the empty spaces of others
or hide myself
just right
under the covers.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
speak,
my loves,
of your fury and disappointment.
chant,
my sweets,
a relatable rhetoric that touches deep.
sing,
dear warriors,
a tune that cries for safety
of the oppressed
of us
of the world around us.
fight,
in companionship.
as one.
for there is strength in numbers.
for there is power in truth.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
*lead me to your lofty bower
like a pilgrim in penance
quieten my creaking doubts
and to sleep lull my thoughts
touch me softly in that moment
of inner sorrow and torment
whisper to me of freshly-ground memories
and amaze me with wondrous lucid visions
walk me to the end of experience
and hear me as i wail no more
about broken dreams and sad joys
in lyrical moments of wild abandon
make my heart grind like one toiling
and dim my eyes with painful realization
the world belongs to the chosen few
who grasp eternal paradoxes on cue
and when the distant bugle is sounded
i shall be among the confused many
failing to read the signs of the times
emblazoned upon the dancing sky for all to see*
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
please tell the moon that i miss her soft shadows.
please tell her that i am dying to bathe in her subtle rays.
please tell her to continue her resting patience -
that i would begin to admire her again,
when i am better, stronger, filled with determination.
please do not disrupt her beauty.
please cherish her,
for me.
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 12:07 PM UTC
we're sitting timidly across from each other,
the lights dimmed,
the energy lamenting.
i have nothing to say,
but i have so much love to give.
show me your velvet lust,
let me pour my silky sentiment all over you.
i'm waiting patiently,
for the appearance of total bliss,
but this attraction seems endless, baby,
like a vessel to the night sky.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 3:15 AM UTC
i'm floating in surrealism,
satisfaction engulfing my bay of love.
my limbs are listening to me quietly,
contently,
liberated.
i speak my affection for you through delicious movement.
i simply flow like water,
you simply shine like the sun.
14:00
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 2:23 PM UTC
i'll summarize the painting
of my life with him in it.
it's a priceless work of art,
only love is the profit.
i raged crimson,
for the time you had to leave.
out of my stubborn anger,
the truth, i couldn't perceive.
i splashed shades of blue,
for the time i spent alone.
to feel so sad from everything,
melancholy was monochrome.
i planted green,
for the growing bitterness
of hating and loving you,
simultaneously like this.
i shined yellow
for the murderous thought
of the both of us,
turning brown, it rot.
i built up gray
for the concrete walls
of my cold, bare heart
every time you called.
then to black it faded,
everything was gone.
but white invaded
because light has come.
the pinks and purples,
suddenly arrived.
you finally came
yet somehow i have survived.
but for you to leave,
or if it's me to go,
let's stop each other.
for an unfinished painting
we wouldn't want to know.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:27 PM UTC
the floor is icier than the last time i crumbled down here. i'm enclosed within the walls of eerie silence, blackness all around me, enveloping my terror, releasing my pain. tears seem to find their own way down to the floor, first dancing with delight, then solidifying and morphing into dark crystals. what is more comforting than the fetal position? the escape that has been written repeatedly into my screenplay of a life.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
i'm sat in the café drinking coffee,
you're outside screaming in the rain.
what a sweet display of annoying dissonance.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
how can i taste you,
when the lingering lust clouds my vision,
blinding my ignorant emotions,
poisoning my tempered touch?
how can i have you,
when we are divided by the invisible line of national border,
swimming in helpless sentiment?
i dream of you
of memories yet to exist,
of kisses yet to transpire.
i hope you dream of me,
of my dissipated thoughts,
of my paralyzing vanity,
of my flourishing greed.
mar 7 16
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC